


swept away by the wind

by fromthefarshore



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Character Study, Fluff, M/M, Soft Boys, a bit of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 07:35:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14869467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthefarshore/pseuds/fromthefarshore
Summary: There’s less to worry about in the peaceful little town by the sea.





	swept away by the wind

**Author's Note:**

> long time no see! ahhhh I miss writing bokuaka and in general Haikyuu fics. The fandom seems to be getting more and more quiet, but I hope there are still people who don't want to leave it!  
> and so, here's a little soft story for the warm days of summer

Akaashi closes his eyes at the wind and he smiles as the helpless fluttering of his eyelashes still tickles a bit. He sits down on the warmed up sand and pulls his knees close, resting his forehead on them and wrapping his arms around. Trapped in a box of limbs, his face is finally hidden from the wind. The sun is giving full attention to his dark hair, caressing it with her warmth, and even though Akaashi’s getting slightly too aware of it, he doesn't put on the hood to cover himself. 

The air near the sea is fresh and the sound of waves crashing and bubbling close to his feet is somewhat calming. There’s no other noise around and Akaashi lets himself bathe in the feeling of complete tranquility. It’s good that he’s come here.

It’s nearly unbelievable how there’s not a single person around in a rather huge area called  _ park _ . There’s only one main path surrounded by sunburnt grass and sand, a few palm trees and a windmill. At the back there’s a tiny hill covered with some greenery, oh and a fenced platform on top that offers a view of Mt. Fuji, Akaashi reminds himself as he thinks of a certain someone who’s jogged that way upon entrance.

It’s been only a few days, but they’ve already gotten into a routine: Bokuto jogs up the stairs on the hill for a little session of workout, meanwhile, Akaashi goes to sit or walk at the seaside while he waits.

He nearly feels rather than hears Bokuto approaching after a while. The wind flow gets somewhat disturbed, the sand feels more pressured, though perhaps it is in Akaashi’s mind only as he’s known all along that Bokuto’s coming. He always comes.

Bokuto’s hand touches Akaashi’s hair, stealing the warmth as he threads his fingers through the black strands. It wanders down to his back before Bokuto sits down as well, their shoulders touching. He playfully nudges Akaashi.

“Here you are,” he says, as if they were in the middle of hide-and-seek game, and Akaashi can hear a smile in his voice. He lifts up his head to look at Bokuto.

The wind is weaker now, just a pleasant breeze; Akaashi decides that it has stepped down its’ game because otherwise it’d have to deal with moody Bokuto when the sand gets in his eyes. Akaashi lets out a puff and leans a tad bit closer to Bokuto. 

“You make it sound like I was hiding from you.”

Bokuto hums and wraps his arm around Akaashi’s shoulders, the touch soft and careful. He doesn’t say anything about the hiding. 

“What were you thinking about?” he asks instead. Akaashi lets out a small laugh, followed with a shrug.

“That the wind is tickling my eyelashes, and it’s ridiculous,” he says. “That there are no people around again. That I don't see Mt. Fuji today.”

Bokuto chuckles. 

“You make it sound like it’s hiding from you.” He beams. “I could see it from up there,” he says and then, after a moment of hesitation, adds, “I couldn’t see you.” 

Akaashi lets his arm travel to Bokuto’s knees, slinging it around, letting his fingers drum softly against the bare, sunkissed skin. Bokuto follows the little movement with his eyes. 

“Say, Akaashi,” he starts again and his hand reaches to touch Akaashi’s, gently brushing against his crumples, “does being here weight you down?” 

Akaashi looks at Bokuto, waiting for him to lift his eyes up again, and only then he offers him a smile. 

“On the contrary,” he responds and he squeezes Bokuto’s knee before taking a deep breath and standing up, “it fills me with lightness.” He offers his hand to Bokuto, who takes it immediately, even though he doesn’t pull on it when getting up. Instead, he tangles their fingers together. 

The wind caresses their skin. 

“There’s less to worry about and so there’s less overthinking,” Akaashi goes on, curling his fingers between Bokuto’s, “it’s vast and free here, and I can hold your hand almost whenever. I don’t need to hide. We don’t need to.”

Bokuto lets out a laugh, relieved and honest, and he steps forward, catching Akaashi into a hug. 

He smells of the sand, of the sea and of the wind, and Akaashi buries his face in all of it, desperately clinging to Bokuto’s warm body. 

It’s slightly beyond him why there’s suddenly a burst of emotions in his chest, why the tranquility he’s been full of these past few days erupts in such a way, but there’s a happy hum coming from Bokuto, and Akaashi can feel a wide smile dancing on his own lips when he says, “ _ this _ feels good.” 

-

There’s a lot of other things that feel good in a small town near the sea. An empty shop where they get ice cream, the sunny streets, Bokuto’s excited chatting, the fish market where the ladies smile to them asking who are they visiting, some of them recognizing Bokuto from before; except they call him the little Koutarou and Akaashi can’t stop smiling because he’s yet to see anyone taller than Bokuto in the town. It even feels good to walk up the never ending hills, right and left, and right and left, for there’s a lovable company next to him, careless touches, sweet talkings which sometimes, still, make Akaashi blush. 

“It looks extremely soft and warm in the sunlight,” Bokuto says, “your hair.” And even though there’s an audible note of surprise in his voice, it sounds more amused than anything. 

“They look brown, and it’s a warmer colour, after all,” Akaashi says and it makes Bokuto laugh. 

“It’s not exactly about the colour,” he says. “It’s about you.” He smiles sheepishly and leans a bit closer to Akaashi, “say, can I kiss you?” 

Even before he looks around, Akaashi knows that there are no people anywhere close. He reaches for Bokuto’s hand, slightly sweaty in this heat, but familiar, always familiar.

“You don’t need to ask every time.”

Bokuto beams, the response of “but I want to” dancing in his eyes when he tilts his head, just a bit, to brush his lips against Akaashi’s.

The trees are swaying slowly in the wind, amused by a little show in front of them, and it’s the same wind that sweeps away the feeling of a kiss, as if it’s teasing, as if it’s saying, come on, no one’s looking anyway.

Akaashi lifts his hand to the back of Bokuto’s neck, his fingers getting lost in the short of Bokuto’s hair. It’s a bit dry, just like his lips have felt a moment ago, but it makes Akaashi smile.

“Come on,” he says, “no one’s looking anyway.”

Bokuto lets out an amused puff. 

And this time, even though there’s some rustling of the whispering trees behind them, the wind has decided not to interfere.

-

Bokuto’s hair is blowing in the wind and you can tell from a pout on his face and a furrow of his eyebrows that he is not excited.

“It would have taken one, only one minute to take care of,” he whines while flinging his arm around his head, “this mess. Just a bit of hair gel and no more mess!”

Akaashi rolls his eyes at this, fighting a smile. 

“Free your hair for once at least,” he says, his own hair not even brushed for a couple of days – the wind takes care of re-styling it anyway. “Besides, it’s a good look on you.”

Bokuto opens his mouth to shoot something back, but the words register in his mind and he shuts up, his lip corners curling at the compliment he’s received. Akaashi lets out a puff, but doesn’t comment on it.

It’s the last days of their escape from crowded Tokyo streets to the peacefulness of Bokuto’s grandparents’ hometown. Akaashi thinks he will be a bit heartbroken to leave this place, he  _ knows _ it after getting used to the warmth and acceptance he has –  _ they _ have – received here.

He looks up at the sky, blue and calm, and far-reaching. Maybe it’s this sky that engulfs him with a feeling of quietness and safeness or maybe, he chuckles when Bokuto flings his arm around Akaashi’s shoulders and pulls him close, it’s just Bokuto who’s closer, cozier, fonder than ever. 

It fills him with lightness, again.

“Are we going to visit that forgotten shrine one last time?” Bokuto asks, his eyes bright and big, and focused completely on Akaashi. His look is not invading, however, it’s simply full of interest and tenderness. And for a moment, Akaashi doesn’t care about the old shrine in the forest behind the hill or about the tall green grass which bathes in the sunlight flickering through the trees. He cares about Bokuto only, about the warmth of his body, and suddenly, about the joy he sweeps Akaashi up with, embracing him in a hug when he says, “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself as you just stared back at me without saying anything.”

And Akaashi laughs. He laughs as he hugs Bokuto back, on the side of the road to nowhere, under the scorching sun, in the wind that is still trying to re-style their hair.

Because when they’re here, there is no worry and there are no people. Perhaps it’s all swept away by the same wind playing with their hair and perhaps for once Akaashi truly feels like he doesn't need to hide.

He lets out a soft, content hum, and he whispers,

“Say, Bokuto, can I kiss you?”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, I hope you found it somewhat relaxing!


End file.
